All I Need
by 2theSky
Summary: (Set after the 2012 Avengers Movie) Every team has their struggles. And for the newly formed Avengers... well, this week has definitely been one long struggle to get through. Sometimes it takes a little outside help to get through the hard times.


If anyone had glanced up from the bustling nightlife on the city streets, they would've seen the lights flicker on in the tower overlooking the city.

Anyone who just tended to stare up randomly at the sky would've seen a second light join the first.

Someone graced with the observant nature of a stalker would've seen the third click on.

And then an entire floor lit up.

The whole of New York didn't seem to care when Stark Tower fought to join the furious flutter of the night, cabs whizzing by, people rushing about, businesses illuminated in miles of neon. No one cared that someone in the city had been trying to sleep, so desperately trying to sleep…

The first light on was that of the world's most wanted green rage monster. Weary brown eyes spiked with veins of green opened in a panic as a montage of every painful and horrific moment from his existence. Dr. Banner's shaky silhouette was briefly showcased before he mumbled to JARVIS that the shades needed to block the light from the rest of the world. Behind the dark panel, Bruce pulled on a wrinkled t-shirt and slipped on some battered slippers, fumbling for his glasses and then just sitting on his bed for a moment; the exhausted man had lost his third night of sleep this week, and it was Friday morning.

This wasn't a good week.

The second light on belonged to a guy who apparently couldn't steer his wardrobe choices away from red, white, and blue. Good ol' Captain America was apparently not above the horrors of war that haunted him in his sleep. He didn't even untangle himself from his crumpled and twisted sheets; instead, he weakly brought his hands to his pale face and sighed heavily, the mental burden pressing hard on his shoulders as the night ticked away.

The third light was none other than Tony Stark. Turns out the demons of his past were in rare form this week as well. Monday night he tumbled into Afghanistan and emerged a train wreck of a man. Tuesday was nothing but becoming a little child again, his father's anger the only thing for miles. Wednesday was a repeat of the battle with Loki, only instead of Hulk's scream jumpstarting his heart, he'd laid there stone cold and gone. Thursday was, well… Tony didn't quite remember what he'd dreamed of. And tonight it was a mix of everything combined in flashes. He stumbled up to his lab, ordering JARVIS to locate the nearest bottle of alcohol.

They weren't the only ones awake, though. Clint and Natasha had never retired to bed; instead, Natasha stayed up to train, a sign that Clint interpreted as her trying to avoid her own inner demons. He decided after joining her for a few hours that he wasn't tired either, though the bags under his own eyes from their last mission being so lengthy spoke differently. He silently snuck through the vents and after a while found himself nodding off in the vent right above Tony's lab, where the genius was cursing a now empty bottle for not helping his Everest of problems one lick.

It was a rough night.

* * *

…

* * *

"I smell food!"

Bruce jumped out of the way just in time for the ace archer to tumble from the vents after removing a grate. He landed in a crouch of sweatpants, t-shirt in hand as he stood and quickly pulled it over his head, scars noticeable across his sweaty torso. "Y-yeah," Bruce stammered from exhaustion. "Pancakes. You want-"

Clint cut him off by grabbing a plate of them and glancing around. Cap was slumped over his coffee, Nat was silently picking at a blue bowl of fruit, and Bruce was flipping pancakes, glasses crooked over the black and blue thumbprints under his eyes. "Where's Tony?"

"Upstairs."

Clint nodded silently and grabbed some maple syrup, sitting by Nat, who just nodded at his existence in the room. "I'm…" he wanted to break the awkward silence somehow, "I'm, uh, guessing we all kinda had a rough night."

"Got that right, Legolas."

Clint's eyes narrowed at the name as Tony walked in, tossing another empty bottle in the garbage. He looked horrible. "Actually, no. It's been a rough week. A sucky week. A s-"

"We get the idea, Stark," Natasha cut in, finishing the last jumbled slice of fruit in the bowl, her own tired reflection staring back.

Steve didn't look up from his food as he sighed, rubbing his temples. Clint, determined to provoke a response other than lack of sleep induced silence from his teammates, announced, "Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Go somewhere?" Steve looked up slowly, his blue eyes a dull ocean of pain. "Like where?"

Well, at least someone was interested. "Uh, I don't know. We could try the park. You know, just walk around, get those nuts from the one seller all those old ladies rave about-"

Tony cut off Clint's rambling. "Pass. I'm involved in some critical experiments right now."

"Like trying to see how much alcohol it'll take to-"

"Just shut up, Archer," Tony somewhat slurred, not from the buzz but from lack of sleep. "I'm not going out into the beautiful wide world to soak up Vitamin D and toss bread at pigeons and realign my shakras or wh-"

"I'm game," Bruce said softly, readjusting his glasses. "I just need to clean this-" gestured to the kitchen "-up and change."

Steve nodded. "I'm in."

Clint looked to Natasha, who shrugged. That was her affirmative.

Now all they needed was Tony.

Eight eyes locked on Tony and he shook his head. "No. No way. Loki would have to MELT first before I-"

* * *

…

* * *

"Somewhere there is a puddle that resembles Thor's whacko brother."

Clint smirked at Tony's pouting as they stepped outside of the tower. All of them wore comfortable clothes fit for the April weather; jeans, t-shirts and jackets or a light sweatshirt to match the partly cloudy day. "Don't get your iron knickers in a twist, Mouth Almighty," he jibed. "At least Thor's off planet."

Steve snorted as he jammed his hands into his pockets. "I don't think we need to scare little children again with the hammer… how'd that even happen?"

"Thor got scared."

"Oh."

"… by a rabbit."

Tony sighed. "Okay, I walked outside, mom," he growled in Clint's direction from behind his sunglasses. "I got a whole twelve seconds of sunlight. Can I go back now?"

"No. We're not staying cooped up in there all day. It isn't going to help any of us."

"Thank you, oh great feathered philosopher," Stark snarked his direction. Clint just shrugged as they headed for a coffee shop on the corner. His brown eyes locked onto the door of said shop being flung open as they got closer; Tony walked faster, the others noticing and matching his slight jog as a young boy was tossed gruffly from the shop onto the hard sidewalk, quickly scooping up a book that had skidded from his grasp and almost into the unforgiving rush of taxis. Someone who appeared to be an employee shouted a string of profanity that ultimately translated in telling the child to beat it.

Tony stopped, everyone halting in sync with him. A mix of sympathy, curiosity, anger, and concern swept through the group as the boy, the majority of his appearance shrouded by his massive hoodie, bolted into a mob of pedestrians and vanished. "What was that about?"

Clint and Natasha just watched for the boy, silent as they mentally admitted defeat; he was gone, swept up in the hustle of the crowd. "No idea…"

* * *

...

* * *

"He's a thief."

Everyone glanced at each other as the barista behind the counter ranted. "He is?" Steve asked, incredulous. True, the kid looked a little scruffy, and some kids did steal- this was New York.

But… something about her acute accusation just didn't sit right with the super solider, and neither did the bleach blond's next clip: "He's always in here. Stupid brat runs off and food's missing."

Another girl, this one with skin the same color as the coffee in her hand. "Who's a brat?"

"That kid who's always in here."

The Avengers watched the exchange quietly as the other woman sighed. "It's true. Kid always escapes with a bagel or donut."

Clint noticed Steve's tense jaw. He frowned himself, thinking on how the kid hadn't seemed like he had any food on him; he sure seemed tiny, and any hidden food would've been noticeable in his worn out coat.

Unless he'd eaten it before he was thrown out.

"Oh well," the first ditzy girl shrugged. "Boss threw him out. Glad he's gone."

The group took their leave with their drinks and headed for the park, Tony purposefully throwing out some ridiculous line to get them sidetracked from the child. After all, this was supposed to be a break. Granted, Tony had been reluctant to leave the building, but now he was a little glad he'd joined the others… even if it took Clint and Bruce dragging him to the elevator and Natasha's deadly glare cutting into him the whole way through the lobby.

But no one managed to entirely erase the forlorn figure hitting the pavement roughly from their minds, no matter how beautiful a day it was around them.

* * *

...

* * *

Though they were supposed to be relaxing, Natasha couldn't help but be on guard.

Her green eyes kept roving over the other people roaming through the park. A jumble of kids playing on the swings to her left. An elderly couple at twelve o'clock enjoying the balmy temperature and cloud-dotted sunlight as they watched the pigeons and fed them scraps of crusty bread. A young woman in a black business suit and skirt typing so fast her fingers drilled through her Macbook Pro on her right. A young boy huddled on the ground by a tree-

wait.

She looked around for the others, seeing them at an ice cream cart, Clint apparently bringing her back something, though she'd made some lame excuse for not wanting anything; she just had a hunch something was up. No idea what, but just… something. It was that itching feeling, a nagging that tugged at her mind to the point where it was her only focal point now.

She glanced quickly at the kid, pulling her leather jacket a little tighter unconsciously as the boy's threadbare overcoat did nothing for the sharp breeze that whisked through the budding trees. Natasha was certain.

It was the same child.

Clint finally reached her, grinning as he handed her a bowl of vanilla ice cream. She looked at him pointedly and he just shrugged. "What? It's a small!"

She grinned slightly, then tilted her head towards the child as she swirled the spoon in the hard ice cream. "Notice anything?"

"Like what?"

"In that general direction," she whispered, tilting her head once more.

Clint looked, ignoring his own bowl of ice cream, and he bit his lip. "It's the kid."

She nodded. "That would be the 'what'."

"What's he doing?" Clint wondered aloud, shoving a spoonful of ice cream- apparently mint; he didn't remember what he'd ordered at the moment, as he was preoccupied- into his mouth.

The boy had pulled out a book from somewhere and was tapping a thin pencil against an open page.

"Diary?" Natasha guessed.

"Not sure. I can't see what he's doing from here too well," Clint admitted; the kid was a little too far away.

The other three of their group caught up and Tony noticed what held their attention. "It's the brat," he said halfheartedly, intending it as a jab at what the two women had said earlier.

"Yeah…" Steve smiled just a little. "He's drawing something."

"Drawing?" Tony shoved his milkshake into Bruce's open hand and grabbed Captain America by the shoulders. "Okay, Spangles, go over and see what he's drawing."

"Really? Why me?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Art's your department, Picasso. Go!"

Steve matched Tony's eyes roll and quietly made his way to the other side of the tree where the child was rolled into a tight ball. He took note of, before analyzing the drawing, the kid's well worn pencil. The majority of the yellow paint had long since flaked off, and the tip was crudely sharpened, probably at the hand of a knife. The book was a cheap sketchbook, black cover already wearing at the edges and exposing the cardboard beneath. It looked like the boy had cut through half the book as it stood currently, his left hand pressing down on the page as he drew-

good God.

The kid was drawing him…

the kid was drawing the Avengers.

All six of them were drawn in perfect detail, and it looked like it was from memory, as Steve didn't see a reference picture anywhere. The city skyline was silhouetted behind them, the sun slicing through rows of buildings, Stark Tower the only one lit up at all with the "A" blaring in the front. The boy was working on shading in Steve's shield, which looked like the last thing he needed to do to polish off the picture.

Instead of talking to the bundle of rags, Steve turned and headed back to the group. "So?" Tony was impatient, demanding to know what the kid was drawing.

"He's drawing us."

"Aw, the kid can draw stick figures," Tony joked; it appeared Steve had been gone long enough for the others to have finished their ice cream, where he still had a milkshake to finish. "That's sweet."

Steve shrugged. "You should go over and see his drawing." Even though the regal shine on the Iron Man suit in the drawing might inflate his sky high ego even more…

"I'm not going over to see a five year old's pwetty picture," Tony mocked.

"I'll go."

Tony looked at Bruce like he'd grown a second head. "Really, Green Bean? You're wasting your time!"

"Who cares? I want to see it." Bruce wasn't admitting that the Hulk in him was raging inside as he could just feel something was off about the child, like he was unwell…

he had to make sure, or his green-eyed alter ego wouldn't let him forget his oversight.

"I'll go too," Natasha said quietly, nodding to Clint; they were sure something was up as well.

As they headed over, Tony shouted, "Have fun!" sarcastically, causing both to roll their eyes and Dr. Banner to even chuckle a bit.

Natasha sighed. "What's wrong with him?"

"My diagnosis is… well… just being Tony Stark."

"Can you give him something to make him stop?"

Bruce's eyes widened comically and he snorted. Her snarky comment was still reserved and pithy, like she wasn't using anymore breath than necessary dare she need it later for something far more important than a menial remark. "Sadly, no."

The Black Widow just nodded, her expression stoic the whole time, only tainted with just a touch of concern as they drew closer to the boy. She was so zeroed in on him, as was Bruce, that neither saw the figure rush into Bruce's side.

"Hey!" Bruce quickly felt his pocket. "Great…" both broke off in a run, Bruce gasping out that his wallet was gone.

Something darted past as they raced through the lush green grass, Natasha noticing it was the kid.

How was he running that fast?!

Quickly he caught up to the tall thief and tackled him to the ground, Bruce's wallet falling to the slightly damp grass. The child grabbed it up and clutched it in his shaking hands, just as the thief cursed loudly and threw two punches. One landed on the unfortunate boy's jaw and clipped his lip; the other decorated his right eye.

Natasha didn't waste time in confrontation, just delivered a solid punch and the thief - a man in his twenties who looked a little buzzed - dropped in a heap.

No one seemed to take much notice, except for the other Avengers who rushed over as Bruce knelt by the child who was sitting up and shying away from Bruce; he wanted to bolt. It was obvious the kid wasn't used to being around people, or if he was, his history with interacting with others wasn't great.

Clint's blood boiled at the thought and he slowly crouched by Dr. Banner. "Kid, c'mon. He just wants to make sure you're alright."

The boy looked up and everyone was startled to see a small boy that couldn't be more than ten. His brown eyes were wide, flashing with fear and apprehension. Everyone was too close… too close…

Bruce sighed. "How do you feel?" he asked, figuring the kid had to cave at some point; his face was paper white, and his eyes were smudged with ash, one darkened by a coming bruise.

"I'm fine," the child whispered hoarsely, scrambling to his feet and bolting before anyone could blink. He made his escape and disappeared again before anyone could react."

Tony clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Huh… guess he's not a people person."

Everyone's eyes narrowed, but no one shot a comeback his way. They all walked away slowly, wishing the kid hadn't ran.

And none of them noticed as something snapped under Tony's foot as he headed off the green grass to the sidewalk, a splinter of wood poking into the bottom of his shoe.

* * *

...

* * *

A walk back to the tower, six pizzas, and two movies later, the team was half asleep, only Tony still awake as _White House Down_ reached its close. He slowly stood up, careful to not disturb the passed out physicist slumped over half the couch on one side and the red headed assassin on the other.

"Sir…"

JARVIS didn't have emotion, but he sure sounded hesitant. Or worried. Or Tony was just confused and really needed a drink. "Yeah, JARVIS?"

"The scans came back positive a minute ago."

Really? "JARVIS, what's the location?" he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the First Aid Kit he'd been hiding; despite everyone believing he was totally pompous and self-absorbed (which was the truth), Tony did have some shred of concern for those around him.

And Bruce wasn't the only one with medical knowledge, though Tony's was far more limited.

He suited up quickly, flew over the city, found the address-

an alley.

Tony immediately landed upon seeing a huddled mass in the back of the alley. He hurried over, well, as fast as the suit allowed, and gently rolled over a small child.

It was him.

"JARVIS?" he said nervously, as he noticed the boy's breathing was shallow.

"He has a mild concussion, two cracked ribs, and various other abrasions. He's also dehydrated and malnourished, the latter severely."

Tony gently scooped up the child, seeing in the dim light how pale he was. "JARVIS, get the rest of the team up. Tell them to expect company." He sighed and looked over the unconscious child again as he shifted, whimpering in pain. "Pint-sized company."

* * *

...

* * *

Tony couldn't get back fast enough for the now quaking child in his arms. He landed a noch below gracefully on the platform, even JARVIS sensing his urgency as the suit was removed in record time, the child remaining still and cradled in his arms as the armor was pulled off its creator. Tony looked up from the fragile bundle in his arms to see eight eyes staring up at him.

Everything was a blur of arms, worried faces, and medical gear, all wrapped up in silence as Bruce raced through a thorough but gentle examination. He sighed, confirming JARVIS' analysis. "Mild concussion, two cracked ribs, way too many bruises, and definitely exhausted. Poor kid's also starving." He looked up from where he was crouched by the couch which was repurposed as a bed. Bruce had flipped the switch, replaced with Dr. Banner, whose focus was the pale package of skin and bones in front of him. "Tony, go get some soup- something light. Natasha and Clint, get some new clothes and get a guest room ready. Steve, help me out here. He's shivering."

A thick fuzzy blanket with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo was wrapped around the child, now only clad in well worn blue boxers, as Bruce had to look at the injuries without obstructions, which were his clothes. He moaned quietly, whimpering as Bruce winced alongside the child, feeling every bruise as gently as he could. His gentle touch betrayed his inner rage, the green almost reaching his eyes. But Bruce fought to keep it at bay; he knew if the green was visible, he was long gone.

Steve looked around. "What does he need first?"

"Aside from the blanket?" Bruce rubbed his temples in deep thought. "Food. He's too weak. Then I need to dress those wounds, and whenever he wakes up he needs to bathe." The kid didn't smell horrible, which meant he'd probably gotten a quick rinse at a shelter in the city recently, but he was dirty and scratched up and Bruce didn't want anything to get infected.

"Here." Tony showed up moments later, holding a hot bowl of soup.

"Thanks." Bruce hated to disturb the resting child, but the food was currently ranked higher than rest on his scale of needs. "Hey." He lightly shook the boy's shoulder. "Can you wake up for me, please?" Bruce inquired softly, running a hand through the kid's hair.

The tired figure just groaned weakly.

"Come on… you can wake up. Just for a bit."

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation when the child's fingers only twitched in reply. Time for blunt tactics… or just flat out bribery. "Kid, there's food."

Little brown slits peered up at him, slowly widening as the child woke up. His features screamed of pain and fear as Bruce's hand rested in his hair. He looked up, eyes suddenly wide.

All three men were taken aback at seeing the boy's eyes. Instead of a hunger-worn brown, they blazed with gold streaks shooting from the pupil, creating lightning bolts across the chocolate irises. They were a sharp contrast to the rest of his tired and pale appearance.

Bruce finally found his voice as the child made a move to get up and bolt. "Relax," he said calmly, moving his hands to the terrified boy's shoulders, lowing him back down to the pillow. "None of us are going to hurt you."

The kid didn't look like he quite bought it, but looked at Tony thoughtfully for a moment before weakly whispering, "Y-you're Tony Stark…" everyone could clearly see, though he didn't say it, that the child was wondering why he was this close to the billionaire.

Tony nodded. "The one and only."

The hero thought he heard Steve mumble, "Thank God for that," and the boy glanced around, wincing as his eyes observed the room.

Bruce let him do that for a minute, then showed him the soup. The kid's eyes went wide and he looked up, shocked. "Is that for me?" he asked, even after Bruce had said it was.

The doctor nodded at the soft-spoken child. The boy couldn't even bring his battered body to sit up, so Dr. Banner took the spoon and cradled the bowl, Steve silently moving to hold the boy up a little. The exhausted kid only got down half the bowl and a few sips from a water bottle before his eyes started to close.

Tony shook his head as the kid slipped into sleep. "Didn't get his name…" instead, he headed for his lab and returned just in time to see Natasha and Clint come in with clothes, every injury carefully wrapped on display and open to both's frowns. Tony returned with a needle and with some help from Bruce, drew just enough blood for a test. He commanded that JARVIS scan it immediately and alert him as soon as there was a match.

Then it was time to take the trembling child to the guest room. Clint offered to carry him, cursing softly at how little the body in his arms weighed. Steve grabbed up the boy's rags while Bruce gathered his medical gear, something tumbling to the floor from the pile.

"What's this?" Tony asked, grabbing up the object.

Natasha, Clint, and Steve recognized it as the boy's drawing book. Tony didn't open it though. Instead he held it in one hand as they headed for the guest room, thinking to check out the book later.

Once the kid was drowning in a grey t-shirt and smothered in blankets that finally stopped the chill from claiming his system, he slept soundly. All five gathered by Tony as he opened the book.

Right where the Avengers drawing was.

Tony gaped. This kid was good! "Whoa…" but so he didn't sound entirely dumbstruck, he threw in, "My suit's a little shinier than that, though."

Bruce just shook his head and eventually Tony turned to the beginning instead.

The first drawing was an elderly woman in the park, throwing birdseed and crumbs of stale bread to the pigeons swarming her feet.

The next was an alley near a restaurant, a group of friends heading for their car, loaded down with bags of take-out.

Another drawing depicted ducks in the park's pond.

One was of leaves and snow and flower petals all falling.

Tony paused as he came to a drawing of Iron Man again, this one on its own. It was spot on, just like the other one.

He flipped the page and Steve was next, the black and white figure looking ready to jump off the page. On top of it was a ripped newspaper clipping with a picture of Captain America from their battle with Loki. So the kid used a reference for one of them.

Clint was shown next, no reference image between the pages. His bow and arrow were drawn perfectly, and Clint smiled a little.

Natasha was shown after Clint, another reference picture here.

Then Bruce.

The Hulk's massive frame barely fit the page, bulky and barging towards the page turner. It was so intense that the picture was almost frightening.

Tony turned the page and Thor was shown next, hammer resting in his hand.

A few pages later was a drawing of Spider-man, who was relatively new to the hero business, but older than their team-up. It was from a fight with Electro (Tony was sure that was the lightning bug of a person's name), both hero and villain drawn beautifully.

There were more drawings: a few flowers from the park, a little child walking a dog, kids on the swings - which was where this poor kid needed to be, instead of injured and sleeping in alleys- and one with someone shouting angrily. The picture looked all to intense, like the boy had witnessed it.

All five adults hoped he hadn't.

"Sir, a match has been found."

"Show me." The others, except for Bruce, who volunteered to stay behind, followed Tony to the main room, where he accessed the scans. Holograms appeared left and right, until-

"Oh God…"

Tony needed a second. "His name's Nathan Marcus. He's twelve."

Steve gawked. "There's no possible way-"

"Look, Spangles, this is his birth certificate." Tony started reading the information off again. "This is way too detailed, even for my scans…"

"That's why."

Everyone looked where Natasha briefly pointed.

The kid was in the system.

Or had been. Two years ago he'd been sent back to his parents, who had apparently claimed to have their act together. But just two weeks after being home, the kid bolted, the cops called by a neighboring apartment complaining of being woken up by shouts and reporting a loud scuffle in the other room, the boy's blood found splattered all over the room in various stages of drying; it was a disgusting sight, the apartment filled with filth, beer bottles smashed about-

and two drug dealers.

The bust that night was huge, no one in the neighbor hood sleeping at all due to the blare of sirens, the flying curse words, and the police tearing apart a ten miles radius over the course of a week in hopes of finding what they were sure was a severely injured child, who'd had a good nine years with a kind, older couple just outside the city.

Now…

he was alone.

Sleeping in alleys or the rare occasion of being accepted into a shelter had become his worn out life. Instead of high B's and A's on his report cards (the boy was pretty smart), the kid was trying to survive without anyone in his life.

Steve shook his head. "That poor kid…"

"Couldn't blame him if he is a donut thief," Tony remarked dryly. "Looks like no one cared about him."

"The family he was with before this mess cared." Clint's fists clenched. "Does he have anything else on him?"

Tony asked JARVIS to scan the boy's clothes, and only a handful of change totaling sixty-five cents, as well as a gas station five pack of gum, showed.

"No pencil?"

JARVIS responded in the negative, leaving Tony to wonder if the child had lost it. He turned away from the computer- "Ow!"

"What?"

Tony grimaced and pulled off his shoe. "Something just stabbed my foot-"

a sliver of pencil.

Steve frowned. "That looks a lot like the pencil the kid had." Same wear on the paint, same greyed wood...

"Oh great…" Tony sighed. "Well, I'm getting him a new one."

* * *

…

* * *

The next day little Nathan was fully alert.

Still incredibly weak, but awake.

So everyone took that as improvement.

He panicked at all the new, close faces, used to being alone for so long. He hadn't had a bed this comfortable since… since that really nice family so long ago. His heart ached all day as these people turned out to be really nice, reminding him too well of what he'd lost.

But his stomach burned with worry. What if they turned him in to the police? Said he was out on the streets? What would happen then?

But as the day unfolded, his worry slowly faded, not entirely, but quite a bit. Now it neared ten o'clock at night, Bruce checking him over. He smiled. "You look a lot better than you did before, Nathan. I know it's later than I'd like for you to be up in your condition, but if you'd like, you can get a bath."

A bath?

He hadn't had one of those in a while.

So Nathan silently nodded when Bruce asked if he wanted to take a bath. The child hobbled on his own to the bathroom, only pulling off the borrowed shirt, leaving his boxers on as he turned on the water-

but for the shower head, not the tub.

A bath sounded nice, but he would be just fine with a quick shower. A quick, cold shower so he didn't waste the generous Mr. Stark's hot water. He moved to pull off the last shred of his clothes when-

"Nathan, what are you doing?"

Bruce walked in, sighing. Had he not decided to check on the kid, he was positive Nathan would've taken a shower instead. They both knew the kid wasn't strong enough to stand.

Nathan looked up tiredly. "I-I was-"

"Taking a bath?"

He nodded.

"Without any water in the tub?"

Bruce wasn't mad at the child; he couldn't be. He was mad at all the people who'd caused his life to become this… this trainwreck. He sighed quietly and watched as the boy swayed where he stood. "Here." Bruce quickly adjusted the water, switching it to warm and starting to fill the swimming pool of a tub. "If you're too tired, I can help you."

Nathan shook his head. "I'm fine on my own. T-thanks, though." When the water had reached two thirds of the way up the tub, Bruce turned it off and turned to a closet next to the tub to grab some towels; he grabbed the biggest, fluffiest ones possible, trying to give Nathan some privacy as he stripped off the old boxers and sank into the tub. He shut the closet door and laid the towels on the sink, eyes narrowing slightly at seeing all the scars marring the soft spoken child's body.

This was so wrong.

As he looked over the scars, some healing, others ugly and fading from years of existence, Bruce jumped forward as the kid slumped, eyes slipping shut. "Whoa!" Bruce propped him against his arm. "Nathan?"

Nathan's eyes opened a little and he looked at Bruce, no signs of embarrassment, just sheer exhaustion. "Yeah, Doctor Banner?"

The kid refused to call him anything else; it started off with "Sir", Bruce said to just call him by his first name, and the kid couldn't quite do it. "Do you want me to help you so you don't drown? You're too tired."

A weak nod was the only response and Bruce gently washed the kid, minding the tender injuries and grimacing whenever a soft gasp of pain escaped Nathan's pale lips. When he finished, he dried the now asleep child in the thick towels and quickly changed him into some clothes Natasha and Clint had gone out to purchase earlier. They were still a bit too bit, but they were warmer this way; his thin frame was an icicle.

"Let's get you in your bed. Unless you want to sleep on the bathroom rug." Bruce carried the boy to the bed in the next adjoining room and pulled the blankets up over him. In his sleep, Nathan fished his hands out of the purple sweatshirt's arms and snuggled deeper under the warmth as Bruce smiled and slipped out the door silently.

* * *

…

* * *

Two weeks went by.

Nathan was up and on his feet without stumbling after a few days, turning out to be incredibly energetic, but super quiet. He didn't speak unless spoken to, and everyone, despite countless attempts, was always "Sir" or "Ma'am" or "Mr." or "Miss". He was polite when he did talk, and he flinched away from every touch coming his way.

He'd warmed up to the others quite a bit, but none of them seemed to know what to do in the long run. After further investigation, Tony found records that the kid was missing, his case basically forgotten and buried in the archives with no further thought.

As he sipped his fifth cup of coffee that morning, wishing Pepper would come back from this three week trip sooner and watching Nathan huddle over his sketchbook with a pack of new pencils, Tony wondered if adoption was an option.

Of course, that would be rough to get through the red tape (unless JARVIS sidestepped it), and Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. would probably have his head…

but this skinny kid was worth it.

After all, in the time he'd been here, everyone had been hanging out together more. They were closer, more like a group of friends than just a group of mismatched individuals. Nathan's small smile had opened all their hearts in one way or another, and they'd all admitted their nightmares were starting to fade as the little light seated on the couch chased the dark dreams away.

He nodded to himself and took another sip of the coffee. "Whatcha drawn', kiddo?"

Nathan looked up and shrugged.

"Aw, come on. You can tell lil' ol' me." Tony smirked and knelt by the back of the sofa the boy sat on.

"It's not that… I just… I'm not sure quite what it is yet."

Tony peered over the bony shoulder at the book. It was a random mess of sketches and lines with shading here and there.

"Looks abstract to me."

Nathan smiled a little and shrugged again. "I never did anything like this before. I… just don't know what to draw."

"How 'bout me? Or my suit again? Or the tower?"

"Wow, self-absorbed much?" Clint chuckled, walking over. "Just keep drawing that. Looks cool."

"Thanks, Mr. Barton."

Clint made a face at hearing his last name. "Kid, it's 'Clint'."

All he got was a skeptical nod and Nathan returned to his sketching.

Tony and Clint walked back to the kitchen and Tony sighed. "I don't know what to do with this kid! All the kids today have these babysitters called TVs! This kid doesn't know how to use the remote! He only used the computer to get that Lamborghini picture so he could draw it, and he doesn't know a thing about how an iPhone works! What do we do with him?"

"Find a board game."

"Really, Legolas? A board game?"

Clint shook his head. "Or we could all go for another walk. Get the kid outdoors in the sunlight and the fresh air."

"That's what the roof is for. Just sit him up there!"

"Admit it, you just don't know how to deal with a kid that's not addicted to technology," Clint laughed, grabbing a water bottle as he did.

Tony glared. "Shut. Up."

"I take that as 'yes, Clint, you're correct.'" Clint's smirk met Tony's halfhearted glare.

In the short time Nathan had lived with them, he had run into Clint when his hearing aids (though perfected by Tony Stark, of course) decided to spontaneously crap out. Nathan had tried learning some sign language, but ultimately stuck to making sure he was looking at Clint and Clint was looking at him before speaking. He just couldn't master getting his shaky fingers to map out the right motions.

He'd also gotten a tour of Tony's lab, getting scared by one of the noisier devices and stumbling into a hard metal table in his panic, knocking a scanner of Tony's to the ground. The kid had curled in on himself and huddled in the corner, trying not to cry as Tony approached, concerned. Nathan flinched and whimpered when Tony knelt by him and reached for him to check and see if he was injured.

The forlorn kid was so scared.

But Tony, and the others as well, hoped eventually the child could one day feel like he didn't need to be.

* * *

…

* * *

Three days had flown by.

Nathan had now learned how an Xbox worked, courtesy of Clint teaching him (and Steve to a degree, as he watched with a very confused face). He'd also started (and finished) reading book.

Well, everyone thought it was one book.

Instead, he'd finished off a four book series called The Homelanders. He'd started reading them again, actually, as he was too nervous to ask Tony if it was possible to find more books.

And he'd also drawn more. A lot more.

The Avengers had been called away from the Tower by someone called Fury. Tony told Nathan in no uncertain terms that if Fury called he was to ignore him. And if he cursed on the answering machine, Nathan quietly resolved to scream, "Language! Child present!"

That would probably be the boldest thing he'd ever do, if he actually did it.

Alone, Nathan just laid on the couch, too tired to draw, but apparently not tired enough to fall asleep.

"Nobody's here…" Nathan wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to break anymore of Tony's stuff, and he didn't want to risk making any kind of mess.

So he just laid on the couch in a blue t-shirt and some black sweatpants, trying to stop thinking and instead thinking more. If only-

"Sir?"

Nathan squeaked in surprise and tumbled off the couch to the floor at JARVIS' sudden tone. "H-huh?"

"It appears there is a scuffle outside the tower."

Oh boy…

Nathan stood up and looked to the TV as it flickered on, showing a live video feed of the fight. "Uh…" he was the only one here! Everyone else was… was somewhere else.

He was alone.

And the security feed showed three hulking guys (none the actual Hulk… who would've been helpful right now) and a young man and a young woman, probably his sister as they looked very similar.

Nathan bit his lip. He didn't know how to contact the Avengers! And even if he did, they were preoccupied. And Spider-man was still on that break of his for whatever reason; Nathan just hoped the man was alright.

That left him.

Nathan sighed and rushed to the elevator. "JARVIS, get me to Tony's lab." He dropped his usual please, hoping and praying he could find something useful.

Upon reaching the lab, Nathan's eyes searched frantically for a device. It was somewhere! He knew he'd seen it-

there!

Nathan's bony fingers grabbed a prototype Tony had been working on before when he was in the lab. It was finished, but Tony had joked, "It'll either work, or destroy a city block."

Nathan got back in the elevator and was immediately rushing through the lobby, holding a bulky silver and black machine that was almost as heavy as him. His feet flew and he ran out into the street, skidding to a stop just outside the alley.

"Please!" The woman screamed through the one brute's hand covering her mouth, his other arm wrapped around her waist. All three men were wearing worn clothes, stained with beer and… other unidentifiable substances. At least one of them was drunk, the one holding the woman as the man from before was repeatedly punched and kicked, already unconscious. "Leave him alone! We don't have any more money! I swear!"

One of the men beating up her companion stopped and glared at her, cursing at the top of his lungs. "Shut up!"

The whole attack was uncoordinated, like they were just trying to find any mark with cash for a fix. Both the guy and girl were well dressed, but upon seeing both the girl's purse and the guy's wallet spilled out over the rain-drenched pavement, Nathan knew they'd probably gone somewhere and spent their money. Judging from the fact that they had no bags with them, it was probably out to eat. Maybe a double date? That's sure what it seemed like.

Nathan raised the weapon, hand on the handle beneath; it was ultimately like a gun, his finger wrapped around the dark trigger. He hoped this thing actually worked… "HEY!"

The shout directed all attention to the small boy holding up what looked like a mix of an oversized blaster from _Star Wars_ and an alien weapon from _Star Trek_. All three stopped, the woman managing to squirm out of the drunk's hold. She knelt by the other man and pulled him away as all three were distracted, none seeing anything other than a kid with what looked a lot like a huge toy gun. "Punk!"

All three rushed at him, angered at his disruption of their oh so wonderful idea of fun.

And Nathan pulled the trigger.

"If this contraption works…it should create such a force that throws back anything in front of it. Like an explosion almost, except without all the debris and mess. If you aim it at someone, though, there will most likely still be injuries. There's a setting meter as well, but for now let's just click this thingy back to the lowest setting… there we go."

As Tony's words flooded his mind, the gun fired with a loud, "BANG" and the three men were thrown to the ground, all unconscious.

Nathan heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Wow… actually works."

He hurried to the two victims just as the young man woke up. "Wha-" the two looked at Nathan as he asked if they were okay.

Both nodded, but Nathan shook his head. "I think he needs a hospital." The man was bruised all over, his skin more black and blue than flesh tone, and what wasn't bruised was pale. He kept the weapon in hand, shifting so only one hand was locked around it, and he scooped up quite messily all the contents of both the purse and wallet, finding only a few bills on the ground, totaling four dollars. He handed everything to the woman and smiled at her as she fished her phone out of her purse, which somehow the crooks had missed.

"Let's get him out of here." The woman and Nathan held up the battered man in-between them and got him to a bench outside the alley so he was safe. But as they did, something sharp tore through Nathan's side and he winced. His ears started to ring, but he resolved to get these two to safety first. Once they were seated, he smiled in farewell and limped back to the alley-

where the guys were gone.

Suddenly the world twisted and Nathan fell to the ground, Tony's weapon beneath him as he held onto it yet. It had to be kept safe. He gasped, something burning on his right side, right beneath his ribs. What-

blood.

He looked with pain filled eyes at the ground and saw a pond of blood pooling around him. He felt so tired…

what happened to him?

Nathan slumped against the ground, out cold, Tony's weapon smeared in red.

* * *

…

* * *

The Avengers were just outside the city, all being dropped off by helicopter. The day had been saved (again) and they were ready to just unwind when-

"Sir, Nathan appears to be in serious trouble."

Tony's mask covered the shock in his face, but not that of his teammates. "What?"

"He's been shot, Sir. Just outside the tower."

The security feed played inside Tony's mask quickly and Bruce (who hadn't transformed for this one; he was there to help in the medical field) asked what was going on.

"The kid stopped a mugging outside the tower. With my new prototype… he's bleeding way too much…"

They jumped from the chopper to the building and got to the ground floor in record time, Tony only waiting long enough to get out of his suit.

All five ran, pushing through the crowd of suits and ties and dresses and kids to the alley-

"Oh God!"

Steve and Bruce reached him first, gently rolling him onto his back. The blood was… it was everywhere…

Bruce felt for a pulse. "Tony…" he swallowed hard. "He's too far gone."

"What?" Everyone was kneeling beside him, Clint's hand on the boy's thin shoulder, Tony's hand grabbing the weapon out from under him and trying not to puke at all the precious red liquid splattered over it, Natasha's hand resting in the boy's hair, Steve's hand applying futile pressure to the gun shot wound, and Bruce's hands double-checking his pulse. "No, he can't…"

The video had shown one of the men pulling a gun when Nathan helped the two out of the alley. The kid had no chance to see it coming…

No.

This couldn't be happening. Not to sweet, scared, special Nathan.

This whole thing had to be a nightmare. Tony hoped and hoped and hoped that it was, but he knew deep down it wasn't.

Nathan's eyes slowly opened and Tony was both relieved and horrified. Relieved that Nathan was still breathing. Horrified that Nathan was awake to feel this pain. He smiled slightly and coughed, a few dots of blood appearing on his lip. "W-well… your device works, M-Mr. Stark."

"Kid…" Tony almost choked on the lump in his throat. "It's 'Tony'."

Nathan closed his eyes a second. "Sorry… d-didn't mean to take it-"

"Son," Steve broke in. "You saved two lives with that thing. No need to apologize for anything."

Nathan shivered and coughed again, more blood coming this time. "Th-that's funny…"

"What?" Bruce asked, watching Nathan's face for signs of pain.

"F-f-for the first time… t-there's… no pain." Nathan grinned. "I can go home."

Forget image! Tony felt a tear fall slowly to the ground. "What do you mean?"

"H-home… I'll finally get there." He stopped smiling and said softly, almost in a whisper, "Thanks for everything."

And then his eyes slipped shut.

Nathan took a shaky breath.

Then another breath, this one softer.

And one more that ended with a rough rattle.

The shoulder under Clint's touch turned to ice and Clint shook his head. "He's… he's gone."

Bruce's hand dropped from Nathan's cold wrist and he shook his head. "What… now?"

Tony sighed. "Ask me tomorrow."

* * *

…

* * *

Nathan's funeral would've been expected to be small.

And it was.

Tony got in touch with his foster family from before he'd been shipped back to his biological parents and explained what had happened. He'd paid for their trip to the city, and they spent their two weeks in the city at his tower.

The other avengers helped with preparing everything for the service. It was small, quiet, and the tiny casket was closed off to the world. Only a local church which (after some digging) had allowed Nathan to stay the night more than a dozen times was located, Tony notified them as well, some of their congregation quite attached to the boy who popped up once in a while for the Sunday service or to sit under their awning, out of the cold or the rain.

Twenty-five people in all were there, Nathan's drawing book on display in the back.

But after the service and burial had ended, Nathan's grave marked with a grand headstone that was engraved with "For the bravest and youngest Avenger", Tony and the others stopped back at the church to collect the book.

As Tony's shaking hand grabbed it, one of the reference pictures inside tumbled to the carpeted floor.

Clint silently crouched down and grabbed it up, frowning. What that writing on the other side? He flipped it over and looked over what was definitely writing. "Tony… I think you should look at this."

Tony took the paper and the others moved behind him to read with him.

 **"Somewhere on some distant shore, a boy rises up with the dawn. His bed is a mat on the floor. He kneels in the dirt with a song…"**

As he read, a new watch on his hand that linked Tony directly to JARVIS at all times clicked and JARVIS silently scanned the song, locating it and starting to play it in a lower volume as his creator and his friends read on.

 **"Gives thanks to his God up above with his simple offering of love. He has nothing on Earth to his name, but with all of his heart, he starts to sing…"**

Tony's fist almost crumpled the paper. So that's what he'd meant by "home"…

 **"... A woman steps out for some air and catches the still setting sun. Remembers when he was still there; they married when she was still young. And when she looks back on their years, there's sorrow and joy in her tears. No one here on earth bears her name, still she lifts up her head and starts to sing…"**

No one said a word as they kept reading, only Clint and Steve registering there was music playing around them.

 **"All I need, all I need, all I need is You, Lord- I've got everything. All I need, all I need, all I need is You, Lord- I've got everything. So come wrap me up in Your love. You are forever enough. I've got all I need, all I need, all I need in You, Lord. You are all I'll ever need…"**

The kid had nothing to his name, except his book.

 **"Bread alone cannot sustain us. The earth below cannot contain us. We are made whole in the One who made us. So sing, sing, sing it out…"**

Tony finally noticed the music under his reading and silently thanked the A.I.

 **"You are everything. You are all I'll ever need. I've got everything. God, You're all I'll ever need."**

Tony sighed and looked over the paper again, the front also written on.

 ** _"Dear Mr. Stark: I know no one will probably believe me, but I only took the donuts people left behind 'cause they dropped them on the floor. You, Mr. Rodgers, Mr. Barton, Dr. Banner, and Miss Natasha (she never told me her last name) are awesome people. God bless you all."_**

Tony laughed for a moment. "Gonna miss that kid…"

That kid who'd saved them from their own inner demons.

* * *

 _-this is officially the longest oneshot i've ever written. sorry for any typos; i tried to catch them all :(_

 _i haven't seen the new Avengers movie, so this oneshot happens right after the first movie and the whole issue with Loki. (this is my first time writing anything Avengers related.)  
_

 _please let me know how i did. sorry if it was terrible; i've got a lot of projects going on and just thought this would be fun to write (which for me, it was). any comments, criticism, errors, etc.- i'll take whatever you've got. :)_

 _the song lyrics are from Brandon Heath's "All I Need"._

 _thanks for reading! have an awesome day (or night... idk) and God bless! :)_


End file.
